


Uzumaki's Plan

by MiiniPop



Category: Naruto
Genre: Author Chooses Not To Add Certain Tags, Gen, Mild Gore, Not Canon Compliant, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, Uzushiogakure | Hidden Eddy Village, non-sexual nudity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiiniPop/pseuds/MiiniPop
Summary: The sun was high, just reaching mid-noon. The sea was active with life, fish slowly swimming towards the rundown island. Trees seemed to perk up, flowers turning to the sun.The last pieces of the fleshy shield fell way, and where once stood a statue made of marble and care, now lay a small child, curled up and naked, the light blue glow of the seal below them.And at once, Uzushiogakure came to life.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 153





	1. Moonsickness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All To Save Them](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047267) by [CaffeineAddicted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineAddicted/pseuds/CaffeineAddicted). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that I'm using a very limited amount of tags, it doesn't really say what's in this fic, exactly, so I though I'd tell you what isn't in it. This may be updated and changed, but it should generally stay the same.
> 
> Non-Con, Explicit* Sexual Content, Underage, Graphic* Child Death, Graphic* Animal Death.
> 
> These things do not happen on screen. There will be references and mentions to most of these, people talking about it, as this is a world with Ninja's that can collapse mountains and move through dimensions and kill entire squadrons of people in seconds, so Bad Things are bound to happen. Anything else, like gore, is off the table and will probably pop up at some point. And for the things with the * next to it, all it means is that you might see the start or aftermath of it. I will cut away, don't worry.

* * *

[ Chapter One : Moonsickness ]  
  


* * *

_ "I can help you..." _

_ … _

_ … _

_.. _

_.. _

_ ".. please." _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_.. _

_ "It won't be easy, brat." _

_.. _

_ … _

_ … _

_.. _

_. _

_.. _

_ "I'll…. I-I'll do anything… please." _

_ … _

_.. _

_ … _

_ … _

_.. _

_ ".... if you're sure. Now repeat after me." _

_ … _

_.. _

_... _   
  


* * *

The waves crashed along the broken shoreline, the air a salty tang of sea water and faded blood. Bones and debris scattered the once green grass and white marble, burns of unknown flames painted scorched houses and paths alike.

A soft energy hummed in the sky. It circled the island, encasing it in an everlasting sense of melancholy and tranquillity. And despite the absence of any known life form, the small broken island seemed alive.

It was what kept people away. The stillness of the earth and water, the viciousness of forever swirling tides and whirlpools, the lack of fresh water and clean food. All of it preventing anyone from entering and scavenging the ruins of the once proud city and taking what is not theirs.

The Uzumaki were once the best sealmasters, after all. Known for many seals that are used on a day to day basis, introducing many subjects into seals, like Time and Space theory, and world renown for almost being unbeatable.

But the seals that covered every side of the island had been washed away, scratched at like angry wolves by the harsh seas of a grieving city, useless until refurbished. 

On land, there were few seals left. One, still active, that watered a small weeded garden patch, nearly hidden in the foot tall grass. Another, that spun a weaving wheel, getting slower as the days go on. And one more, long forgotten, hidden under a table, that stored weapons for an emergency, but never got to be used.

And in the middle of the island, where carts are pushed over, houses crushed into rubble, weeds and ivy infesting the cracks in the ground, there stood a statue. It was twelve feet in height, made of polished marble that still shone even after years of neglect. A golden plate marred the bottom, scratched out to never be read again.

And underneath this statue, hidden to never be seen, there was a seal. One of Uzumaki's greatest inventions. One of Infinite possibilities and just as many dangers. And now, after years upon years of waiting, it activated.

Bones and rotted flesh and dried blood slowly, every so slowly, rumbled it's way to the statue. Some got clogged on bricks and wood, some got lost between cracks and dirt, but as they reached the statue, sliding over the last bits of mud and sticks, it climbed the marble pillar. It covered the statue, the bones clicking together, loud enough to break the silence, and creating a horrifying mock of a ribcage around the statue.

Some bones obviously weren't meant to go together, but they hooked and grabbed at each other like eager toddlers and sticky hands, chipping away at small pieces that would climb further up to join in with another group to fill in the gaps. The old rotted flesh, grey and weary and burnt and very little of it, stretched over the yellow bones, breaking apart only to sew itself onto another clump of skin, thin enough to see a vague figure underneath it.

The skin was not smooth. Every section had a different skin tone, from dark grey to a sickly almond white, to a bruised purple and charcoal red, and the textured ranged from lumpy to scratchy to smooth and charred. There was no rhyme or reason to the mass of old, dry skin, only that it needed to cover every single bone.

The blood came next, clotty, filthy, and hard, patiently rolling waves at the bottom of the mound, waiting for the flesh to stop vibrating. And only then did it begin it's trek to the top, where both bones and flesh had not touched.

Along its journey, rocks and splinters fell, hitting the ground with tiny pitters. Clott smoothed out, turning into a liquid smooth substance, and as it neared the top, where the sunlight hit, it started to bubble with heat. The flesh sizzled underneath, but it soon calmed down as the first drop of blood reached the top and fell into the hole.

Soon the rest followed, and in the silence of the slow breeze and smooth waves, something broke.

* * *

Not all villains are cruel. Some are villains of circumstance, like a kind heart being wasted on a person who'd rather you kill your best friend than kill yourself. Some are told false ideals, some do it for religion, some simply can't feel enough emotions to express guilt.

All of those people, villains of circumstances, they all have the option to be good. Have the option to turn back and realise what they did was wrong. To confess to their sins and face the results of their actions.

Real villains are not that common.

Real villains are those who hurt others for fun. Psychopaths, or not, they are the type who'd laugh as they raise a knife, or whip, or anything, and bring it down into supple flesh. They're the type to know their own strength but still hit hard enough to hurt. They're the type to take and take but apologise for never giving anything in return, only to take more.

Real villains aren't that easy to find and some would believe. In fact, some of the nicest people are the real villains of the world.

Orochimaru. Zabuza. Deidara. All those and others aren't… real villains. They were cruel, yes. Selfish. But they all expressed kindness in one way or another.

Orochimaru is undoubtedly one of the strongest Sannin. Not in strength, no. That title belonged to Tsunade. But he was smart, cunning, always three steps ahead. He had modified his body in inhumane ways, and had an apprentice that almost rivaled his strength. And yet, every time he came face to face with Jiraiya, Tsunade, Kakashi, or anyone else that didn't meet his level of skill, he was always the one that ran away.

And that was not because he was weak, because Orochimaru was anything but that. But it was simply because Orochimaru didn't kill without reason. 

A lot of people died for his experiments, a lot of adults and children alike. They were kept in crowded cells, stuck in their own urine and faeces, with abnormalities from experiment after experiment.. But that's just it. They were for his experiments. Other people he comes across, people who have some level of skill, are either taken in and trained to survive, or ignored, forgotten..

It wasn't needless killing, and the people who were in pain from experiments weren't kept alive because Orochimaru found happiness in their suffering, but because the Snake Sannin wanted to see exactly what the experiment would result in. 

And if it didn't work, the test subject was mercifully killed with a clean slice to the throat.

And that was the difference between a villain of consequence and a  **_villain._ **

A Villain like Kakuzu. Like Itachi. Like Gato. Like Madara.

Madara.

One of the worst villains in existence. Almost a villain of consequence, but not quite. The death of a relative, a brother, four younger brothers, would affect anybody. It just so happens that Madara took that pain, took it and squashed it into a ball of infesting hatred that grew and grew with every breath before it erupted one day. And for that hatred, his very best friend, dead by his hands, and him, Madara, scorned and shunned from the village they worked so hard to build.

For the loss of his brother, Madara wanted to take away Hashirama's. For the scorn of his village, Madara scorned them back. For the commitment of his clan, Madara abandoned them. And he did so with a passion in his heart and a smile on his face.

It's much easier to hate than to love, and for seventy years Madara held onto a festering hatred, until the day he presumably died, and even after he was resurrected. And with a grin pulling at his lips, he ended both the war and world, killing both allies and enemies, until only a handful of humans were left. 

Tsunade. Gaara. Sasuke. Kakashi. Obito. Han.  **Zetsu.** All dead. All plans failed and foiled. Buried six feet under or burnt to a crisp.

And all the while, he kept Naruto alive to watch it.

A cruel fate for the once prophesied hero, brought on by a cruel man with an even crueler plan.

And Naruto was kept alive for a long, long time. Brought with his hands tied, his legs broken, his mouth gagged but his eyes pulled open, Naruto was made to sit by Madara's side as time and time again, his friends were slaughtered. Killed for their attempts at saving him, killed for opposing Madara, killed for simply existing.

The first was Tsunade. Strong to a fault, with a will to match, but useless against a legend like Madara Uchiha. Beheaded within three seconds, strung up like a puppet in five more, and the head being delivered to Konoha's doorstep in six. A warning, a sign, to surrender.

Next was Kakashi, who was loyal to a fault despite his empathy, animal instinct ingrained into him from birth of  _ packpackpack  _ and the need to save. He didn't last two second, despite his new Kamui ability. Eyes pulled out, jaw ripped off of his face, stomach sliced open and hands missing. 

Everything was burnt but the Konoha headband, which was taken and tied tightly around Naruto neck without a second thought. A memorial, a mockery, a joke of what he couldn't stop.

Then it was Sakura and Gaara, closely followed by Fuu, Han, Karin, and many more. All fighting to save Naruto, all fighting for freedom, all fighting to escape the everlasting sorrow and fear they were stuck in.

Some of the last people to die, funnily enough, were all those who had tried to kill Naruto in the past. Quite a bit of people, but still.

Sasuke. Obito. Itachi. Kabuto. Kakuzu. Zetsu. All left until the very end. All believing they were safe from Madara's hatred. All bewildered when Madara blew up the cave they inhabited.

They didn't last long either.

Itachi was already on the brink of death, hacking up his lungs every other hour. The only reason he was still alive was because Kabuto was there, monitoring the illness and countering it as best he could, despite it being a futile effort.

Sasuke could have been a challenge, but in regards of fighting one of his last living relatives, it was a one-sided fight. Obito died with the flick of Madara's wrist, the seal over his already strained heart activated, crushing the organ.

Kakuzu, Danzo, Kabuto, and many others. Gone in barely a minute. Disintegrated into nothing but dust, or sealed away.

Some of the strongest people alive. Plummeted underground with the rest of the population.

It was… eye opening, for everyone.

And at once, rescue attempts stopped. For both Naruto and for many other people that were captured. Sai. Temari. Gai. Darui.

It was the tipping point. The part where people realised just how futile it was and gave up. And they either hid in fear or slit their own wrists.

It was the point where Naruto gave up.

Up until that point, it had been Kurama that help him together. The one that consoled him as his friends and sensei were slaughtered in front of his eyes. His support when the person he trusted, Sasuke, stood behind Madara and watched as Naruto got his ankles crushed, got the ligaments in his legs torn out, faster and more brutal every time it healed.

Kurama was the only one that would help with the dwindling sanity, speaking even though he was locked behind bars, straining to make himself known even when Naruto couldn't hear himself think.

And when the last of his friends died, when Kurama became the last one of Naruto's precious people…

He gave up.

Kakashi-sensei. Gone. Sakura. Gone. Tsunade-baa-chan. Gone. Jiraiya. Gone.

Sasuke. Gone.

What more was there for Naruto to do? There was no one left, no one outside of the dusty cave he was captive in, nothing to live for except the giant chakra beast locked in his stomach. And even then, with every wound Naruto got, with every bruise or scratch or stab, he stole a small bit of Kurama's chakra. Day after day. Week after week. And very quickly, year after year.

Kurama was locked in the seal, after all. Locked with an irreversible seal that'd only unlock once Naruto is either dead, or unlocks it himself. And since Kurama was locked inside, he was locked from the outside, where the nature chakra that fueled his very being was. And with no supply, the only chakra he had left was… very little.

He was a chakra beast, meant to be unbeatable due to the sheer amount of expandable chakra he had. Always taking from the world around him, never running out, always replenishing. Each Bijuu Chakra Ball took about a fifth of his chakra, and Kurama could do about twenty-four of them in a single hour, his chakra, his essence, regenerating almost as fast as it's spent.

But with no chakra being transported through the seal to Kurama, he was slowly drying out. His energy was spent healing Naruto's wounds almost 24/7, and the rest was either spend consoling the blond or sleeping when the Uzumaki finally shut his eyes.

It was a long, gruelling process, and by the time four years had passed, there was only a small handful of chakra left in the once mighty being.

Naruto had fallen silent by then.

No sound, no thought, but only regret from the blond. He firmly ignored the deep, measuring rumble that echoed through his mind, the voice that lulled him into a rare, peaceful sleep.

Naruto only regret. Because it was his fault that the Kyuubi, the once thought invincible being, his  **_friend,_ ** was dying.

After all, you shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, but Naruto did just that and just had to go and spit on the graves of his ancestors while he was at it.

It had made sense, after all. Rile up Madara, make him tired and weak, constantly on his guard, so that when his friends come to save him, it would be surprising enough that Madara would falter, and they would win-

Well. That was what he thought before Tsunade-baa-chan was beheaded. And nothing, no crying, no screaming, no shouting, would bring her back to life.

It was a… revelation, indeed.

And now, years later, Naruto had just given up. Accepted his fate. Because by all Kami, Madara wasn't dying soon. There weren't enough humans left on earth  _ to _ kill him, even if they had the guts to try. Madara was,  _ is,  _ invincible, tied down by the Edo Tensei, and now, age doesn't matter, because he would live forever, roaming on the lonely land, forever killing off humans, people, until no one remained.

And with that in mind, Naruto felt tired. An everlasting life of torture and suffering. _ Heh. What a shitty way to go. _

For a while, it seemed like the end. Life turned into a monotonous routine. Wake up. Eat what little was given to him. Endure as Madara tried again and again to drag the Kyuubi from the depth of his seal. Then Naruto is housed on the Uchiha's shoulder and dragged halfway across the elemental nation for one reason or another. Then he got to watch as someone died or got to rest as Madara searched the area. Then it was back to the cave, where Naruto would try to sleep for the next day.

Rinse and repeat, day after day, week after week.

Nothing spared him from the boredom, from the slipping edges of his sanity, of the blood that covered the floor and his hands even though he was sure it wasn't there a few minutes ago-

And maybe that was why Kurama presented an  _ alternative. _ A risky, foolish, and downright impossible plan, made on basic knowledge and vague memories.

And yet, despite himself, Naruto listened to the plan and for the first time in a long while, he  _ hoped. _

* * *

The mound of bones, blood and flesh slowly broke away, rotting with every second that passed, and vaguely letting sunlight seep into the once covered cavern.

The sun was high, just reaching mid-noon. The sea was active with life, fish slowly swimming towards the rundown island. Trees seemed to perk up, flowers turning to the sun. 

The last pieces of the fleshy shield fell away, and where once stood a statue made of marble and care, now lay a small child, curled up and naked, the light blue glow of the seal below them.

And at once, Uzushiogakure came to life.


	2. [ I Deserve To Bleed ]

* * *

[ Chapter Two : I Deserve To Bleed ]

* * *

Uzushiogakure was alive with energy. Bird arching over the island, fish shyly bobbing up to the surface, flowers of pinks and purples and blues growing. The tide washed slowly, softly, wiping away debris and dirt and hiding it at the bottom of the ocean, covering evidence of war like a flimsy bandaid.

In the middle of the island, the source of the liveliness sat. Naked, small, and nameless, the once active seal below him now a burnt red, dead and useless.

No thought or sense passed through the young boy, the newly inhabited body awkward and short, his emotions a blank slate. Malleable.

Hours upon hours, the boy sat. Day turned to night, the sun hiding away and the moon rising. Flower buds closed, the tide lapped the creases between sand and stone, salty wind growing stronger.

It took days before the boy finally moved.

* * *

The boy had no goal in mind, only to breathe _in out in out in out_ and wait. Birds fluttered close by, landing barely a foot away, pecking at the ground and searching for food.

_I should move,_ the first incoherent thoughts passed through his head, _I need to move._

The sudden objective had him jerk, arm lowering from the place it held around his legs, pushing at the floor. His feet, unused to a solid ground, fumbled and scratched and hurt, but eventually provided a platform.

The air was quiet, sun barely just set, as the boy, with one last fragile push, set himself straight. It wasn't perfect, legs shaky, back bent too far back, head rocked forward, but it was a start.

A beginning.

_I need to move._

A step, almost sending him back to the ground, had him moving forwards, towards the setting sun. Birds thrilled shallowly as debris got pushed out of the way, rolling and rocking out of the way of small feet. Muscles tensed and trembled and ached, but it was far away from the mind as he took another step. Then another, and another, and another, until he crossed the border from broken bones and discarded flesh and into the dead, dry grass of the overgrown city.

_I need to move,_ his mind said. and he _did._

The journey through the city was a long one. Newborn limbs getting used to carrying the solid body, the cutting edges of glass and stone digging between toes and under nails. There was a numbness in his chest, a blank slate where something should be, his conscious hanging somewhere between sharply focused and as hazy as a foggy night.

Underneath the command of _Move move move move,_ of _left right left right,_ he vaguely wondered what a foggy night looked like. He wondered how he knew to compare it.

But it was shoved once more in favour of side-stepping a large pillar, almost tripping with the jagged movement, and then stumbling further down the road, arms swaying slightly with each step.

The dead grass soon gave way to rocks, then rocks soon gave way to sand. And before he knew it, the ends of his trodden toes were being washed in salty water. It was cold, with no sun to warm it, and stung the wounds he had acquired. But he was there, almost there, and now he needed to _cross._

_I need to move._

_I need to cross._

_I need to move._

_Move._

The water trembled, whites and glows on the surface spinning and shaking. He took a step, and the water flowed with him. He took another, and so did the waves. And with every step he took onto soft, soggy sand, the water slowly and slowly formed around him, encasing him in a moist dome. Fish, ever present, swam by, arching over his protection and avoiding the air pocket he occupied.

He walked. And walked. And walked. And he kept his straight forward, lumbering pace until even when the sun rose once more, the bright light did not hit the area he walked in, so deep in the ocean that his vision was full of black and blue. Fish and other waterlife moved as he did, slithering from the floor or diving around him, big with monstrous teeth and small with hard shells.

Water swirled somewhere above him, crashing and flipping and echoing through the depths of the ocean. Sunlight seeped through the shallower part of the tide as he walked under it, illuminating the rich gold of the sand and the pearly glint of rocks and coral.

Time passed with only his goal in mind, breaths coming shorter and shorter as the oxygen he occupied slowly drizzled away. But as his vision slowly got more disoriented, the ground he walked on started to arch upwards, leading him back towards the surface steadily.

It was with a shallow gasp of fresh air that his head rose against the surface, water parting like the retreat of a midnight tide, red-purple face returning to it's pale shade and sweat cooling on the brow, dissipating slowly.

The twinkling stars shone on him as he stumbled to the watered bank, legs twitching with effort of keeping him standing and walking. The soft sand sunk between toes that grabbed, grappled, at the small grains of rock, scrambling to find a grip that would let him lug himself up the small but deep bank. It was a bit of effort, a piece of wood that stuck up from the ground being helpful towards the end, but within minutes the land started to flatten out and the yellow, perl-coloured sand gave way to mossy and straw grass.

He had a minute of rest, head buzzing in a way that left his heart thumping in his ears and behind his eyes, breath straining against new lungs, and throat contrasting around nothing as his dry mouth attempted to scourge up any little bit of saliva it had.

The weather was cool, cold, the night sky drawing at any warmth his body had and took it for itself. When the first shiver wrecked through his body, when the repeated mantra of _move move move_ started up again, chasing away the satisfied feeling that ached in his chest, that's when he started up again, one leg in front of the other, left, right, left, right, feet tingling as injuries opened and closed and blood spewed from pores on his heel and left a smattering blood trail.

The beach-side turned into wooden forests, and the ocean, the vast darkness of mystery and old guilt, shivered and waved as he walked away, lapping at the left blood like a mother wiping away the tears of a frightened child.

_I need to move,_ he thought, and carried on into the trees.

* * *

Kaiza set his bag down with a thump, items clinking against each other, and quickly took his space in front of the open fire with a sigh. It was a chilly night for the middle of Spring, air fogging with every breath he let out, fingertips numb to the bone. But he’d expect nothing else, Spring was always chilly, especially in the Hi No Kuni. He prefers travelling through Kaze No Kuni this time of year, but with the type of jewels he had with him, the people in Yugakure would pay more than usual. A bit of cold is nothing.

He shook off his boots with a groan, the soles of his feet sore and tender from hours of walking, no doubt red under the bandages he wore. Three days of walking was good enough, Kaiza thought. He travelled far and fast enough that he deserves himself a break. 

He fished out his water, sipping sparingly and picking out two dried fish sticks. He saved the other four, despite knowing the hunger in his gut wasn’t going to be fulfilled by the two he grabbed. There was, however, a village coming up soon, just a few hours walk. A break, and then some hot food in the morning sounded quite nice.

It was a quiet night, Kaiza thought. The birds flying West this time of year, and animals only just coming out of hibernation. He’d made this route enough times that he knew what it'd be like in just a couple of months, bursting with wildlife, not even the night silent. But for now, the silence was nice. Familiar.

He sipped at his drink, the disposable one that was made of stiff wood and that he could chuck onto the fire before the night was up. There were a few sips left, the water lukewarm, but it satisfied the dryness of his mouth. He chucked the bottle in the fire when he was done.

There was a rustle to his left just as he opened the first fish stick. Kaiza stood up, dropping everything he helped, hand nearing his sword. “Who’s there?” It wouldn't be the first time someone’s tried their hands at the bag of jewels by his feet, looking for a pretty coin, and it wouldn’t be the first time someones failed. It also wouldn’t be the first time an animal had come looking for a quick meal, which was a lot more common than one might think. Well fuck that, the fish sticks were his. And so was his body.

There was a few seconds of silence, before the bushes parted and a figure stumbled out. A very small, and very naked figure.

“What,” Kaiza says, in disbelief. _What is this luck?_ He abruptly looked away, because staring at naked was a big red _no-no,_ no matter who you were, and then shook that off in exchange for concern because there was a _naked child,_ wandering through the _forest, hours_ away from the nearest village. Who cares about staring? _Kaiza, you dumbass._

The light from the fire was dim, but the kid looked half dead, gaunt and white with blue lips, and Kaiza hastily dropped his arm to reach for the jacket around his waist. He asks, “Hey, hey, kid. You alright?” before stepping forward and slipping the jacket around thin shoulders, looking at the kids face for any reaction. The jacket was light and ugly, missing half a sleeve, but it hung off the kid like a winter coat. Kaiza didn’t carry any blankets or spare clothes, so this would have to do.

The kid didn’t respond, swaying unsteadily. He didn’t grab at the coat, or look at Kaiza for that matter, which was concerning in it's own right, but beaten by the glazed stare towards the fire the kid did. Because Kaiza lived in Wave, where the community was poor and overridden with street rats, and he’d seen those eyes on bodies hidden behind rundown buildings and darkened alleyways. Never on someone alive, until now.

He frowned, taking a chance on the fact that this isn't just a lure or trick, stepping forward and ushering the kid towards the fire. “I’m gonna’ need a bit of chatting, kid.” He said, “You got a name or somethin’?” 

Making sure they weren’t too close for something to catch on fire, Kaiza ushered the kid to sit. Standing in front of the fire, he got a better look at him. The kid was all skin and bones, ribs showing and stomach hollow. There was barely any fat on the thin legs or arms, and the worst of it was the thin coating of blood that was spread across thighs and most likely continued up the kids' back. Whatever happened to the kid, it definitely wasn't pretty.

“Kid?” Kaiza tried to prompt, almost pushing the kid down when he didn’t respond to the gentle nudging. The blue tint to his skin was worrying. The kid didn’t reply, before his legs spasmed, folding in on themselves with a thump. Kaiza caught him before he could go headfirst into the fire.  _ Let’s not add burns onto the list, _ Kaiza though, mouth straining as he lowered the kid as softly as possible.

Getting no words from the kid, Kaiza put it as a lost cause and just stepped away to grab at his bag. There wasn’t much he could do if the kid didn’t want to talk, but he could at least make sure the kid was fed. “ _ Okay _ . Well, I haven’t got much,” He says, crouching by his bag. “But I got some fish bites you can eat. Hold you off until tomorrow.” He grabs the food, the opened fish bite he’d dropped in haste, as well as his second water and the flimsy scarf tucked away at the bottom. It was wide and long, clean enough, and could go under the jacket until they reached the village and got some clothes that actually fit.

The kid hadn’t moved, still staring into the fire, and Kaiza dropped the food and water next to his legs. He then crouched down and ripped a sizable hole into the top of the scarf.. “Move the jacket for a moment, kid?” Kaiza said, not expecting much of a reply. Which he didn't get, surprise, surprise. The kid didn’t move a muscle, and Kaiza retained a sigh before nudging it off the kids shoulders. It crumpled at his feet, and Kaiza quickly slotted the hole of the scarf over the kids head. No use making the kid freeze to death because he was too slow.

Nudging the kid to stand a bit, Kaiza made quick work and slotted it, making sure not to touch anything, between knees before pulling it back up. Letting the kid sit back down, Kaiza ripped another hole over the kids shoulder and finally suited it back over where it started. It dangles a bit on the front because of the excess material, but it covered anything that used to show and that was the point.

“You good to eat on your own?” Kaiza asked, picking up the jacket again and slipping it back over the kid. He helped the kid slot his arms into the sleeves, and then tied it up. “I don't exactly want to hand feed ya’, kid. I feel like enough of a creep as it is.”

Kaiza was reaching for a fish stick, peeling the thin wrapper off completely, when the kid mumbled something. He blinked at the kid. “Oh- fuck. You talk?”  _ Thank Kami. _ Pocketing the food, Kaiza stepped closer, bending down to hear better. “You alright, kid? Something you need?” He asked. Kaiza hadn’t forgotten anything, had he? 

“K-Kon..” The kid mumbles. It was heard to hear, quieter than the flames in front of them, but it was there. 

Kaiza stares, then says, “Kon?” He looks at the kid, who has gone silent again, motionless. “That your name, kid? Kon?” There was no reply, and Kaiza nodded to himself, reaching for the fish stick to finally feed the kid. “We’ll go with Kon.” It was better than  _ Kid. _

The newly named Kon didn’t object to that, or acknowledge Kaiza trying to feed him, but did thankfully chew and swallow on his own when it hit his tongue. Kaiza wasn’t, ah, adverse to doing it himself if needs be, Kami know’s he’d looked after his share of crewmates that couldn’t scratch their own backs, but it was nice to know that despite the dull eyes and unresponsiveness, the kid knew the basics of functioning. 

Kaiza fed the kid the water in between bites, guessing from the sunken eyes and dry skin that some dehydration was involved, and determined that water was probably going to be something he’d need to stock up on soon. If the kid didn’t die between now and getting to the village, that is. Kaiza’s no doctor, not even close to one, but even he knew that a kid covered in blood, with blue lips and a body so thin it looks like it's about to eat itself for nutrition, dehydrated and most likely starved, wouldn't probably survive long without medical attention.

And as much as Kaiza was an asshole, still trying to redeem himself with good deeds and a helping hand, he had enough morals to at least try and help this kid. If only for Tsunami, if nothing. Which... was a bigger motivator than it had any right to be.

“Com’on, kid.” He said, pulling his bag over and giving the kid a push to lie down on it. Hopefully it wasn’t too uncomfortable, it never was for Kaiza. He just had to believe that the kid would say something if it was. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

Kaiza wasn’t sure if it was what he said, or if lying down was known to mean sleep, even for kids that don't seem to understand a lick of what's happening around them, but the kids eye’s slid shut soon after. 

With a sigh, Kaiza sat down nearby. It was quiet, but not as peaceful as earlier. Normally he’d sleep too, given that thieves and no-gooders don't tend to hang around villages because of the frequent visits of other swordsmen and, sometimes, shinobi, but he felt wide awake, lingering fatigue from walking notwithstanding. His body hurt, and he was still hungry, but he couldn’t help but focus on the  _ up, down, up, down, _ of the flimsy jacket. A testament that the kid was still alive.

Kaiza shifted and settled in for a long night ahead.

* * *

The sun was bright and vicious, stealing through thin eyelids. He felt this face scrunch slightly, the reaction as natural as breathing but also puzzling at the same time. The air was dewy and damp, the smell of old fire burning harsh in the back of his throat. His hands tightened on the thing covering him.

“Kon? You awake, kid?” He heard. The words, the words. He knew they meant something, knew there was a question behind them, but they felt like they were behind a wall. Understandable, but muffled, miles away.

A hand shook his shoulder, and he blinked slowly. The light was brighter. Much brighter. And. He was cold. He remembers a light before, but it was warm. This light wasn’t warm.

“Kon?” The voice asked again, some- concern in the tone. He turned, looking up at the person hovering over him. The person was big, bigger than anyone he’d ever met. But, he hasn’t ever met anyone, has he? No. 

_ Yes _ ?

The man must have taken his look as something, because he gave a gruff smile and stood up. “It’s daytime, kid. I let you sleep for as long as I could, but if we don't start moving soon, it’ll be night by the time we reach Jokimachi.” The man helped him stand up, steadying him when his knees wobbled threatenly, before reaching up to secure the jacket around him, and then pulling the bag off the floor and swinging it over his shoulders. 

“You okay to walk?” The man said. He didn’t think to respond, knowing the answer but not knowing how to explain it. It was. Frustrating, he thought. The man didn’t say anything other than a, “o-kay,” before nudging him along. He followed dudfully, almost tripping on the first step but regaining his footing quickly.

They travelled through forest, and a lot of it. The trees were towing over him, the bark thick and steady, and the fallen branches beneath his feet were resistant wherever he stepped on one. It was familiar, somehow. 

The walking seemed to go on forever, the next lot of trees looking the same as the lot before. No animals were in sight, birds echoing shallowly in the distance. Wherever his feet caught on loose roots, or slipped over muddy leaves, or his jacket snagged on low branches, the man was always there to grip at his arm. He seemed to- apologize, a few times. For the lack of shoes or clothing he didn't have. Or for the fact he was saving the last of the food and water and rags for emergency situations.

“At least you’re not so blue, anymore.” The man said, half way through the trip. He was looking over him with a stern eye, large hand curled loosely around his shoulder. “Worried me half to death, kid.”

The sun was at its highest by the time the man sat the bag down and ushered him onto his back, and used the backpack to hold him in place, given that his arms didn’t exactly want to grip any tighter around the man's neck. After that, the pace was faster, trees passing just a tad bit quicker.

He lost a bit of time, mind blank as they travelled, and it was only at the sound of other people in the distance that made him look up. And then panic a bit, because the  _ pull _ that gnaws at his stomach has moved from in front of him, pulling him in the right direction, and now lingers somewhere to the left. Which means that they’re going the wrong direction. To wherever  _ Not-Konoha _ is. 

He blinked and mustered the energy to pull at the shirt the man was wearing. Trying to steer him towards Konoha, where they have to go.  _ Have  _ to go. The man slowed down a touch, but was still moving, which was bad,  _ bad,  _ because that meant they were getting further  _ away- _

“Kon?” The man asked, looking over his shoulder. “You hanin’ in there, kid?”

He tried to say  _ Konoha _ , to tell the man where they needed to go, but all he managed to say was, “K-Kon-” before his voice failed him and he couldn’t get anything else passed. No matter how hard, his throat felt too tight and yet like an open pipe, the word rising and falling, just barely reaching the back of his throat before giving up.

“Yeah, yeah, kid. Kon,” The man said, turning back and picking speed. Which was  _ bad _ . “I heard you the first time.”

A large hand reached up and grabbed his own, holding them from where they’d still been tugging. He felt something, _ emotion, _ reach up and grip him tight, tingles behind eyes with nothing to show. He felt-  _ something, _ trying to pull his arms away, to stumble off into the  _ right  _ direction, but unable to.

_ Anger,  _ something seemed to whisper.  _ Hatred. _ The names felt right.

It was no use, however. The forest floor soon gave way to gravel, the trees turning into houses and animals roaming the open land. Other people soon started showing up, tall and small, varying in different colours. It was bright and overwhelming, the sounds coming from everywhere at once but not making a bit of sense.

“We'll grab some food first, kid, then it’ll be a bit before we can get you some proper clothes. Didn’t think to bring much with me, so i’ll need to trade some.” The man said, heading towards a crowded street. Although his tugging hadn’t abated, he gave a look around, seeing all different types of food and a variety of colours he knew existed but hadn't seen. The man headed straight towards a person in the back area, who had a fire at the back and several different fish at the front.

There was someone else in front, taking a grey bag from the lady serving. The customer handed over a few coins, before they stepped passed the man holding him. The man stepped forward, then, and behind the fish, the lady stood up from where she was bent. “Good afternoon! Can I help you, sir?” She said, putting down an extra fish in the display area. She smiled at them.

The man holding him nodded, reaching around and into a pocket, “Don't suppose you could tell me what’s cheapest? I haven’t got a lot.” he explained, pulling out two gold coins and five silver.

“Thanks okay, sir. We’ve got fresh Saba for five silver each,” she said, pointing at the fish to the left. It was smaller than her hand, but long. “We don't have a bigger size since it's out of season this month. We do have a few Tai left from last night, however. They’re priced at a gold each, but they need to be eaten today.” She pointed at the red fish at the end, large but flat. “I'm afraid that's the best I can do for you, sir. Everything else is considered exotic, and goes for a gold or more.

“I’ll take a Tai, cooked, and I don't suppose you could dry out a Soba for storage?” The man asked, picking through the coins in his hand, “It’s for the travel, you see.”

The lady picked up the red fish, a  _ Tai, _ and took it to the fire at the back. There was a metal sheet hovering over it, smoking and black. “I’m sorry, sir, but we don't do that here. There’s just not enough room to store them. ” She explained, coming back over, “I could seal it up for you? It’ll last a few days, but cost a bit extra.”

Waving his hand, the man passed over a single gold coin. “It’s fine. We’re going to be moving for a while, so-” The man shrugged. It bounced his shoulders a bit, which in turn bounced him up.

The woman took the coin and put it in the bag tied around her waist. “It won’t be a moment, then!” she said, and walked back towards the fish.

The man nodded, then stepped away. He wondered why for a moment, but soon stepped into the frey. People were everywhere, the street still filled even though the sun would start setting soon, and the man shoulder passed a few people to get to another stall close to the opposite end. It was smaller than the fish place, with scarfs and drinks and wrapped food being displayed.

The man exchanged quick hello’s, before pointing to some water. They were a bit wonky, and he followed them with his eyes as they were passed over and shoved into pockets. Another gold coin was handed over, and then they made their way back to the fish stand.

The fish was done by the time they got back, standing to the side of where a customer was currently being served. There was another person at the back, a smaller person, and they were putting their fish onto some paper, sprinkling it with green stuff, and then wrapping it up.

“You hungry, kid?” The man asked over his shoulder, accepting the bag when it was handed to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond, blinking down at the bag the man held. The centre was a bit wet, and he could see the steam rising, even through the thin paper. They moved through the crowd of people, opposite to the water stand, and he stopped tugging when the  _ pull  _ inside of him said that they were moving in the correct direction.

They walked for a while, before coming across a quiet area, only three or four people in sight and some small houses on the edges, and sat down near the base of a tree. He was sat next to the man, the fish between them, and the man said, “Tuck in,” before breaking through the meat and pawing parts off. He didn’t move, at first. Just looked towards where  _ Konoha  _ was, where they should be going. But they’re not getting any further away, and the sun was quickly going down. He knew that wasn’t good.

A hand nudged his arm, and after a second he looked to see the man holding a few pieces of fish out to him. “Eat.” The man said. It took a while, but he lifted his arms up, hands cupped, and accepted the fish when it was dropped. He took a bite. It was bland, the flavour lingering on the outer layer but not anywhere else, but it filled in a spot he hadn’t realized was empty. He only managed three fistfulls of fish before eating started to hurt, stomach feeling bloated even after so little food. It stopped reaching his stomach and instead lingered at the back of his throat in a ball of mulch and flakes. The back of his nose burned.

He paused, wavered, before going in for another bite. He managed to eat only a small bit of it when a large hand covered his own two, scooping the fish out and putting it with the scraps. “Don’t force it down, kid,” The man said, frowning, handing over a bottle of water already open. “Don’t want you to choke on your own vomit.”

It took a moment, looking at the water, but he picked it up and drank. The first sip washed down some of the fish lingering at the back of his throat, the second pushing back the food chewed and stuffed at the edges of his cheeks, once too dry to swallow. But the third was too fast after the last, too large in amount, and it poured down his throat, seeming to catch on every nerve.

The bottle was gone as soon as the first cough came through, the man now kneeling and patting his back as water was pushed back up and out of any available hole. His nose was running, bits and flecks of fish spilling over his lips and onto the jacket he wore, and his throat opened and closed as more was pushed up in objection.

It was- hard. To breathe. And it hurt.

“-alm yourself, kid. Just breathe through it. It’s alright,” The man said, hand still patting his back, forcing him to bend over the grass instead of his own lap. “There w go.”

The coughing stopped, exchanged for swallowing acid-flavoured spit and sniveling through a watery nose. The man moved for a second, reaching over for something, before coming back with a rag. “A bit too much, huh?” He said, reaching up to wipe away at the mess, patting his back at some lingering coughs. His eyes slid shut, watering.

There was another voice, quieter, and he couldn't hear the words correctly. The man replied with, “Yes, that would be great, thank you.” and then went back to cleaning up. When he looked, the fish was gone, either discarded or moved whenever his eyes were forced shut, and so was the water.

Another, heavier jacket was draped over him, wooly and hot. “May Health come to you,” a woman said from his left, a hand running through his hair once, twice, a buzz faintly echoing from them, before pulling away. The man thanked her again, and then he was pulled into the man's side. His eyes slid shut on their own, exhausted, his throat feeling torn to shred but somehow better than a few seconds ago. 

He was out before he even realised they were moving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a year to get this out lol. Hopefully I'll have a schedule of sorts now! All chapters are names after songs I felt fit, either because of the lyrics or just what type of song it is. Like, I Deserve To Bleed feels like a representation of a lack of identity, or not knowing who you are, which I thought fit Naruto here! Anyway, please do tell me what you thought! All comments are appreciated! And please read the note in the first chapter, because there's a few things coming up haha.


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